• Tongues dance within the confines of my mind;
    I am tortured by voices that are mine,
    But whose fury is not mine.
    Still I do not silence them
    For when anger consumes me,
    They speak words truer than my own passions.  
    My tongue is lit with ostentatious fire,
    And it crackles with hot venom.
    Control over the words I screech
    Is beyond the dimensions of my spirit;  
    They have transcended over my control.
    I am merely a chrysalis
    And the spiteful larva that inhabits me,
    Eat away slowly at the casing.
    Soon enough I’ll only be,
    The gruesome disguise
    On the wings of a storming butterfly.